


A Happy Thought Indeed

by zzzzzzzo



Series: Harry Potter Works, all set in the same universe [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5747149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzzzzzzo/pseuds/zzzzzzzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the eighth year of Hogwarts for the heroes of the wizarding world. If Draco Malfoy can't nail his Patronus now, it feels as if he never will. Perhaps help is warranted...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Happy Thought Indeed

I could never get the hang of the Patronus charm.

From the moment I heard Potter could do it at the end of our third year, I began to practise. On and on, for hours on end sometimes. Father would tssk at me. Apparently I had more important things to worry about, and it wasn't as if that would be an especially useful spell for me. He probably just didn't like the noise.

It may have helped him when he was sent to Azkaban, at least.

I worked at it especially maniacally that year, along with all the other duties building upon my shoulders. I couldn't do it. It didn't seem as if I could handle any of it. Spells are no problem, but for the life of me I can never seem to conjure a happy thought.

Now, it's my last chance, or at least that is how it feels. Eighth year of Hogwarts, to compensate for the chaos of last year. This is the end.

I sit in the Shrieking Shack now, late at night. It's a good place to be alone, away from glares reminding me of my past. Besides, that werewolf is gone for good at this point, yet people still avoid it on principal. It's hardly eerie to me anymore.

I like it here. It's quiet, without the gratuitous grandeur everything around me seems to hold. My manor, Hogwarts, even magic itself always carries this aura of magnificence, and it's tiresome. Maintaining greatness absolutely _exhausts_ me.

I cast, and cast, to no avail. I get to the point that even if I could manage the other steps I would fail out of poor wandwork, all but flailing in my frustration. This damned.. Why can't I get it?

“Lumos.” I hear a murmured voice echo down the tunnel and nearly piss myself. Scramble to my feet, squinting in the darkness, with my wand at the ready. I mentally curse in a constant chant. The one place I _do_ get to myself, and some bastard has to come and ruin this too?

The room slowly lightens, and I watch through narrowed eyes as a glowing tip, followed by a wand, and an arm, and a person enter my view. Of-fucking-course it's Potter. A walking, talking reminder of everything I've ever botched up.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy, you scared the bejesus out of me,” he mutters, lowering his wand some from his own cautious pose. He squints at me, raising his wand once again as if remembering himself. “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask the same of you, couldn't I?” Immediately on the defensive. Christ, do I really have to deal with this right now? I'm already frustrated as is with my failed spellwork.

“You could...” He takes loping strides into the room. He doesn't look especially defensive. Why should he? I'm pathetic. Blast. “But I asked first.” He sits on the floor a few feet away from me. I sit too, after shuffling a little farther away of course.

“Oh, the usual. Cooking up some evil plan, imagining the death of all you know and love... Really, standard stuff.”

“Ha ha. Of course, you probably are.” Potter rolls his eyes, starts etching doodles on the floor with the tail-end of his wand. I wrinkle my nose. The nerve of him.

“Tch. As if I have time to spare on you. I've matured, you know, have other things to worry about.”

“Thank _Merlin_ for that.”

It's sarcastic, but true at its heart. I did waste so much of my life on him. Out of shame, from being denied by him. Loyalty, to what I expected my father would want. Jealousy, of how well-liked he was. Resentment, that his friendships seemed true rather than disposable lackeys tied to him due to parenting.. Really, I could go on. There are a _lot_ of reasons to hate Harry Potter. But not much reasoning behind focusing the entirety of my school life on him. Since the Great Battle, I looked at my life. Really, really looked at it. And it... hurt. So this year, this is Draco year. I don't want to worry about the past, or what other people think, or how I can torture others, as fun as that is. I just... Want to have a good year of schooling. And I can.

If I ever nail this bloody Patronus.

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Potter asks again. How dare he interrupt my internal monologue, the swine. I side-eye him. He could be of use... After all, with his help even that Longbottom managed a Patronus. But still... What about my dignity? My honor? I'm a Malfoy, for Chri-

NO. This is not Malfoy's year.

It's Motherfucking Draco Year™.

“I was, attempting a Patronus.” I mutter without looking at him, as if maybe he won't notice me speaking. He looks interested.

“How about that, then? This place could use some cheering up.” He murmurs the words and flicks his wand lazily. To my shock, a sloth immediately emerges. Brilliant white and glowing, it slowly looks from me to Harry, sizing us up. What on earth?

“Your Patronus changed?” I ask incredulously. And to a _sloth_ of all things. It makes a noise at me, as though offended.

“Yeah. So have I, haven't I? So have we all.” Potter shrugs, unbothered by this. “Did that a while ago. Without the war going on, feels more natural, really. What's yours? A naked mole rat?”

“Can't say.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Need help? Wait- what.”

“What? No, I mean-- no.”

“I mean, er, I could, I guess...”  
“Absolutely not, that would, that would be quite useful, really- NO.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” An awkward pause. “What thought have you been using?”

“I don't-- I mean.” I huff. “It's difficult to think of, _anything_. At all.”

Harry looks at me. I don't like that look in his eye. “You can't think of any happy memories?”

“Not really.”

“None at all?”

“Any I do have from my childhood are now shrouded in regrets, and as of late there's been little for me. So yes, nothing.”

“Wow. That is _sad_.”

“Shut up. At least I have parents.”

He glares at me. “They can barely be called that... How is that, then?”

I close my eyes. So, so tiring. “...Better, lately. I've barely been out of mother's sight since, and the owl's from father are more than just packages to show off wealth. I've been getting _letters._ ”

“Well, that's something?” Harry smiles a little bit, but he's clearly uncomfortable. Must be wondering why I'm opening up to him of all people. Quite frankly, so am I.

It may be... He's like the Shrieking Shack, in a way. Without grandeur or pretenses or flamboyance. You would think he would hold that in spades, being the Boy Who Lived, but he really isn't at all. He's just... there. And easy to talk to, when I close my eyes on the face I'm conditioned to hate.

Besides, it's not as if I have anyone else to confide him. Everyone who likes me likes a pretense I've set, or so it often feels. With our history of animosity, it isn't as if I can fail to meet his expectations. There is nothing to lose and everything to gain, as I am hopelessly in love with him.

Oh, didn't I mention that? It's still new to me, in all honestly. All my life I had looked at him through a carefully conditioned eye. When I finally dropped the lens, I could see what _I_ felt about Harry Potter. And of course, it had to be the most inconvenient thing _possible_. Just. Bloody. Brilliant.

“Well... 's pretty clear what you have to do, then.”

“And what is that,” I mutter. This Potter. Always has the answer, doesn't he? A goddamn hero.

“Make a happy memory. Surely even _you_ can manage that.”

“Your faith is truly uplifting.”

“I try.”

“What's there to make a happy memory of? This is the last year. Our last chance. It's not as if anyone wants to make one with Lucius Malfoy's son, anyhow.”

“I'm making an offer, aren't I?”

“And how do you plan to do that when your very face sends unpleasantness through me?”

“I have something in mind.”

He murmurs 'nox,' and flicks his Patronus away with a wave. The darkness makes me tense. “What the hell do you think you-” I feel hands on my face.

And then he kisses me.

 

\---

 

It was Hermione who figured it out, as it always is.

_“I tell you, Malfoy has been acting strangely of late.” The moment she joins me and Ron at the table she starts in on her musing._

_“Yeah. He's not being a right git, for once.” Ron speaks through a mouthful of biscuit, and she glares at him. “I'll give it a couple weeks, a month, tops.”_

_“Besides that. He's acting strange.. Looks at Harry oddly.”_

_“What?” I blink. I didn't think anyone else would notice._

_“Wouldn't trust him if I were you. Before Voldemort there were dark wizards, and there surely will be after.” I nod in agreement with Ron, fully prepared to leave it at that, but Hermione still looks thoughtful._

_“I don't think that's it...” she muses.“Obviously, he must be feeling guilty about his past actions. Probably quite lonesome, too, now that he's been avoiding Goyle and Pansy... Avoiding everyone, really. Must be worried about the future, too, that's natural for anyone in their senior year, and-”  
“Bloody hell, Hermione!” Ron swallows a large mouthful. “This isn't Cho Chang, surely _ Malfoy _can't be feeling all that at once.”_

 _She huffs and crosses her arms. “Well, it's_ something. _He's definitely been looking at Harry oddly.”_

_“Maybe he's in love with him, then?” Ron says with eyeroll._

_“That could be it.” Hermione looks thoughtful. I choke on my pumpkin juice._

_“_ What? _” Ron looks incredulous, slaps my back absentmindedly while I hack. “Hermione, he.. he's a bloke. They both are.”_

 _“_ Honestly, _Ronald.” Hermione rolls her eyes. “It's nearly the twenty-first century. Men have been falling in love for millennia; it's time we stop avoiding it.”_

 _“But... It's_ Malfoy _. Surely he couldn't be queer... Well, explains the hair,” Ron quips. Hermione stomps on his foot._

_“You two are impossible... What do you think, Harry?”_

_“Hm?” I blink. “Ah, um, yeah. Maybe? I don't.. There's no way, right? This is_ Malfoy _. Even if he's gay, it wouldn't... Not_ me _.”_

_“I don't know.. He spent quite a deal of our years focused on you. Hate and love are opposite sides of the same coin, too.” She shoots Ron a pointed look then. He's trying to balance a spoon on his nose. Sigh. “At any rate, it's just a theory. Don't worry about it.”_

_“Yeah...” I agree._

But then I did worry about it. A lot.

I had been thinking about this when I decided to go to the Shrieking Shack. Wandering and wondering. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. It's an odd thing to think about. When the prat is right in front of me, though, I don't really think about it. Rather than over-thinking the past, I'm just seeing what's in front of me. Another 18 year-old who looks frustrated and kind of sad. Someone who... potentially has a thing for me?

...Yeah, that's still weird.

So, anyway, I kiss him. To see what will happen.

It's a surprise. I never thought about doing this, but if I had, I would have though his thin lips would be dry, probably, or unpleasant. They're oddly soft. It's... nice.

Well, while it lasts. Then I'm shoved back by him, using his hands and feet both, and Malfoy is recoiling towards the wall and sputtering incredulously. When I cast _lumos_ I see his redness is in vivid contrast to his pale skin. He glares at me, sends a curse my way which I fall sideways to dodge.

“What the _hell_ was that?” he bursts out.

“Oh, relax. Being uptight has never gotten either of us anywhere.”

“I.. _You bastard..._ ”

“Yeah, I know. Relax.”

Malfoy glares at me, looking close to actually exploding. Takes a deep breath. Then he roughly pulls me to him. Well, that answers that. I can't help but grin cheekily.

“Shut up, Potter.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“I know.” He's biting back a smile. He looks much nicer like that, eyes scrunched, mouth like he bit something sour, with none of the usual resting bitchface. Pretty, somehow. “Shut up anyway.”

“Douche.” I stick out my tongue, grin at him with the old challenge in my eye. “Make me.”

  
He does.

 

\---

 

It turns out my Patronus is a ferret.

I will never live this down.

**Author's Note:**

> whoooooaa, i wrote something that wasn't johnkat?? plot twist! hehe hope you guys liked it, sorry if the characterization is off, i was pretty nervous about this one but i think it's pretty fun


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